First published in the UK in 2024 by Nosy Crow Ltd
Wheat Wharf, 27a Shad Thames, London, SE1 2XZ, UK
Nosy Crow Eireann Ltd
44 Orchard Grove, Kenmare, Co Kerry, V93 FY22, Ireland
Nosy Crow and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Nosy Crow Ltd
Text © Sinéad O’Hart, 2024
Cover and illustrations © Rachel Seago, 2024
The right of Sinéad O’Hart and Rachel Seago to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work has been asserted.
All rights reserved
ISBN: 978 1 80513 304 9
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of Nosy Crow Ltd.
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Printed and bound in Great Britain by Clays Ltd, Elcograf S.p.A. following rigorous ethical sourcing standards.
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For this, my tenth book in as many years, there’s only one person who deserves the dedication. Polly, this book is for you.
S.O.
For Ellen and Anna, I feel very lucky to have sisters that double up as best friends.
R.S.
Deep in the heart of a shadowy forest, on a small island in the middle of a sea of mud, stood a fairy-sized house. Its roof was patched, its chimney was tumbledown, and most of its windows were boarded up.
The front door had six locks on it, each of them sealed with magic. Unhappiness seeped out through the gap beneath the door, and through every crack in the walls.
Unhappiness, and the sound of sneezing.
“Ah-ah-ah-choo!”
Then there came the deep, gurgling rattle of someone blowing their nose, and out of the one window that hadn’t been boarded up, a used cobweb handkerchief soared, landing with a splat in the mud.
Euphorbia Spurge, wrapped in a large rhubarb leaf, sat in her armchair, a stack of cobweb handkerchiefs within reach.
Outside, the wood was frosty and chill. Most of the animals were asleep for the winter. A slow, gentle pattering of snow was falling, which around anyone else’s house would have made things look magical. But around Euphorbia’s house, it just looked like some sort of white fungus was growing everywhere.
Just as Euphorbia began to sink into a doze, something reached her ears. Something awful. Something terrible. The worst sound she could bear to imagine.
Singing!
Euphorbia pulled her rhubarb leaf tight and settled into her chair. She screwed up f irst one cobweb handkerchief and then another, stuff ing them into her ears, and got comfortable. And they’ll be giddy, and silly, and not paying attention… The perfect time for me to have a little fun! We’ll see if they’re still singing when I’m finished with them.
Outside, the snow fell more thickly, and the sea of mud around the house bubbled and burped, and the sounds of sneezing were replaced by a low, menacing cackle…
A Fairy Flounce
In the twilight of the forest, Larch fluttered alongside Lola’s head, her arms folded.
“So – about Santa Claus,” she said, frowning as she tried to understand. “Who – hang on, I’ve got this – who comes up out of the toilet—”
Lola laughed. Her breath was a cloud in the cold air. “No! He doesn’t come up out of the toilet, silly. He comes down the chimney.”
Larch pulled a face. “Because coming down the chimney makes much more sense than coming up out of the toilet,” she
said sarcastically.
“Of course it does,” Lola said. “How would he keep the presents dry?”
Larch scoffed. “I thought you said he was magic?”
Lola rolled her eyes. “He is magic. Look, let’s start again, OK? So, he lives at the North Pole—”
Larch snorted. “Sounds like a made-up place.”
“And he has a workshop there, with his elves,” Lola continued in a louder voice, “where they make presents for all the kids. And then the night before Christmas they deliver them. Simple!”
Larch squinted at her. “And it takes these elves a whole year to make presents? Santa should get fairies to do the job instead. We’d have them all done by Midsummer. And then you could have two Christmases a year!”
Lola laughed. “That sounds brilliant.”
“Fairies are brilliant,” said Larch. “Especially me!”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Lola said, smiling at her fairy friend. “Now, hurry up. Didn’t you say the ceremony will begin as soon as it starts to get dark? I don’t want to miss a thing!”
They were going to celebrate Turningtide with Larch’s fairy clan, and Lola felt very proud about it. She was the first human to ever be invited! Turningtide was a magical ceremony where the fairies marked the shortest day of the year – and every fairy got to make a very special wish.
“And I can’t wait to bring you to school tomorrow,” Lola continued excitedly.
“Remember my Christmas concert? I told you all about it! We’ve been practising for weeks –but we’ve had to keep it a secret so it’s a surprise for our families. We’ve got songs, and dances, and Niamh’s going to recite a poem, and loads of stuff.”
“Hmm,” Larch replied, fluttering over to hover in front of her human. “I still don’t understand what that’s about. Why have you got to sing lots of songs about Christmas? Is the singing, like, a spell to summon this Santa person? I thought humans didn’t do that sort of thing.”
Lola giggled. “You’re so funny.”
Larch frowned in confusion. “No, I’m not.”
Lola shrugged and started crunching through the snow again. “Well, I know something that will make you want to come. It’s meant to be a surprise but … I suppose I can tell you!” Lola smiled widely. “We’re dressing up as fairies! Our theme is Winter Magic. Mr Flynn, my
teacher from last year, is going to be the Yuletide Rainbow Fairy.”
Larch looked like she’d smelled something rotten. “The what? There’s no such thing!”
Lola shrugged. “Who cares? I just can’t wait to see his costume. He’s going to wear loads of sparkles and paint rainbows on his face. He’ll look brilliant!”
Larch looked like she was about to explode. “Sparkles?” she growled. “Rainbows? That’s not what fairies are about!”
Lola looked confused. “What do you mean?”
“That’s what humans think we’re about – all plinky-plonk, dinky-donk, glitter and shimmer and tra-la-la,” Larch said, waving her arms about and pulling a silly face as she spoke. “But we’re not! Not all of us anyway.”
“But – it’s only a bit of fun,” Lola said.
“Fun?” Larch was starting to get red in the face. “Fairies aren’t fun! We’re powerful magical creatures, I’ll have you know!”
Lola nodded patiently. “Because you and me have never, ever had fun together, have we?”
Larch spluttered. “Well – what? Of course we have! But that’s not the point! Can you imagine King Ash having fun? Or my mum and dad ? ” She stared at Lola. “Or…” she began, her eyes widening.
“Don’t say it,” Lola whispered, looking worried.
“Euphorbia Spurge,” Larch murmured in a low and spooky voice.
“OK, I’ll bet she’s never had fun,” Lola said, shuddering. “She’d probably have to learn how to smile. From a video or something.”
“So you see? Fairies aren’t all sparkles and rainbows.” Larch perched on a branch in a badtempered muddle. “Though I suppose there are rainbow fairies. They don’t look like what you might expect though.”
“What do they look like?”
“Sort of like tiny, dark clouds, with legs, and
lightning for wings,” Larch said, leaping into the air again. “And they zip about the sky, crashing into one another and joining together to make one big, huge, wobbly dark cloud. And then
– BOOM!” Lola blinked as Larch shouted the word, doing a star jump in midair.
“They explode! And the colours you see in the sky? Those are all that’s left over when they’re finished exploding.”
Lola blinked.
“OK...”
“Don’t you believe me?”
“Well – aren’t rainbows about sunlight, and rain, or something?” Lola frowned as she tried to remember.
“That’s just the explanation humans came up with,” Larch muttered.
“Anyway,” Lola said, trying to change the subject. “Will you come? To my concert? I’d love for you to see it. We could sneak you in in my school bag, in fairy-mode!”
“No, thanks.” Larch coughed. “I don’t want to see a bunch of humans prancing about, making fun of fairy-kind.”
“Oh, please?” Lola said. “I’ve worked so hard! And we’re going to finish the concert by putting the fairy on top of the Christmas tree. It’s going to be great.”
Larch gave her a hard stare. “Fairies,” she muttered, “do not belong on top of Christmas trees.” She wiggled her nose and turned into a beautiful white rabbit, dropping to the ground and running away.
Larch had a very special magic. Unlike any of the other fairies in her clan, she could become a rabbit whenever she wanted – though sometimes it happened by accident too! Lola stamped moodily through the snow after her friend. Looks like she wanted it to happen this time, she thought.
The stone circle was right ahead, already full of fairies chattering and giggling and zipping about. The air vibrated with a scraping, yowling sound as the fairy orchestra tuned their instruments. Lola tried to shove away her bad temper.
“Hello!” cooed Posy, Larch’s mum, as Lola stepped between the stones. She rushed over to kiss Lola on the nose. “Wonderful to see you!”
Lola smiled. “Thanks, Mrs Mudwort,” she said.
“Oh, call me Posy, dear! You’re as good as a fairy now.”
Lola glanced at Larch, who was back in fairy-mode and frowning at her. I’m not so sure, she thought sadly.
“Now, girls!” came the voice of Larch’s rosy-cheeked dad, Oakheart. “Are you ready for the Turningtide Ceremony? It’s about to start!”
Everyone settled into place as the Turningtide Ceremony began. The fairy orchestra was perched in front of the tallest of the stones, their instruments humming and squeaking a happy tune. Larch perched on Lola’s knee, her back to her human friend, with her wings folded tight around herself to keep warm. She looked sad, and cold, and small.
“Hey,” Lola whispered, leaning forward a little. “I’m sorry.”
Larch shrugged, before turning to her human
friend. “Me too,” she said glumly.
“Friends?” Lola asked hopefully, holding out her little finger. Larch smiled a little and wrapped her arms around it, the closest thing they had to a pinkie promise.
Just then the music swelled into a crescendo, and King Ash floated grandly to the front of the crowd.
“Greetings, everyone,” he shouted, drowning out the orchestra, which spluttered to an embarrassed halt behind him. “We are here today to celebrate Turningtide, the shortest day of the year, and one full of magic. On this day, the great standing stone behind me fills with the magic of Midwinter. To honour its power, we call it the Snow Witch.” Murmurs of excitement hummed around the gathered fairies.
“Will the Snow Witch grant us wishes this year?” called a small fairy near the front.
“Please, Snow Witch! Grant us our wishes!” came a chorus of voices as loads of young fairies whizzed into the air.
King Ash chuckled. “We’ll have to wrap her up warmly and see!” he said, raising his hands. In one of them he clasped his staff. “If we keep our Snow Witch warm, she will replenish our magic and guard us through the cold months. If we’re very lucky, she will also grant us wishes that will last until noon tomorrow.”
“Quick, girls,” said Oakheart, as King Ash started to work some magic with his staff. “Get your Bittertime Blanket ready!”
Lola fished around in her pocket and carefully pulled out the Bittertime Blanket. It was rolled up, and Larch helped to open it out flat. It was about the size of a tissue. Lola smiled at how pretty it looked. She and Larch had spent the week collecting feathers, leaves, shells, seed
husks, pinecones, twigs, stones, and anything else they could find on the forest floor, and Larch’s mum, Posy, had helped them to stick it all together with cobwebs and magic.
Lola looked around. All the other Bittertime
Blankets were much smaller than theirs, but because her larger human fingers couldn’t work as neatly as a fairy’s, that couldn’t be helped. She and Larch shared a look of pride. Their blanket was green, gold, brown and russet red, and it was warm and thick and heavy. One side was a little longer than the other, and there were a few holes in their weaving, but it didn’t matter.
“It looks wonderful,” said Posy, smiling warmly at Lola and Larch.
Then, with a swish of his staff, King Ash’s spell sparkled through the air. Each Bittertime Blanket rose into the sky, and an army of beautiful silver spiders on long sparkling silk threads floated in, looking as though they were made of magic themselves. Lola looked up, but she couldn’t see where their shining threads were hanging from. It was like the spiders were flying!
“There’s Mrs Araneus!” Larch cried, pointing at the largest of the spiders. Lola remembered
how Larch had told her Mrs Araneus was one of her teachers at school.
“Deis!” Mrs Araneus called, and each spider waggled the legs on the right side of their body.
“Clé!” she called again, and each spider wiggled their left-side legs. Then she clapped all her own legs together, creating silver sparks that landed on the other spiders – and they set to work.
Lola watched, her mouth open in awe, as the spiders’ nimble legs darted in and out between each Bittertime Blanket, neatly weaving them all together and turning each small blanket into part of a larger and very beautiful whole. Their stitches shone in the growing dark like stars, glowing down on the gathered fairies below. When they were done, King Ash swished his staff once again, and the now-huge Bittertime Blanket whirled its way to the Snow Witch, wrapping itself snugly round her like a cape.
Lola couldn’t help but join in with the fairies’ excited clapping and cheering. What a spectacle!
Mrs Araneus and her spiders took a bow, and then one by one the silver spiders sped away on thin threads of sparkling magic.
“What a wonderful show of skill,” King
Ash said, looking proud, as the clapping settled down. “Thank you, Mrs Araneus and friends! And now, the moment we’ve been waiting for…”
He turned to the Snow Witch, spreading his arms wide. The orchestra started to play a drum-roll, low and quiet, as the last of the daylight faded – and then a pop of light appeared on top of the Snow Witch, quickly followed by another and another, until there were hundreds, each like a floating pearl. They
threw light on to the snow gathered on top of the Snow Witch, making it look like the stone was wearing a crown. Lola gasped, feeling like she might float away with the wonder of it all, just like one of Mrs Araneus’s silver spiders. “The Snow Witch shows us her kindness!”
King Ash called, turning back to the fairy clan.
“What does that mean?” Lola asked excitedly. Larch grinned up at her, bouncing with excitement on Lola’s palm. “It means the Snow Witch is pleased with the Bittertime Blanket, so she’s granting us magic for the coming season, and all the hibernating animals and plants will be kept safe and warm over the winter. And it means we get our wishes!”
The fairy orchestra started playing again, the acorn drums booming out a happy rhythm as the cobweb-string harps began plinking a tune. Some of the younger fairies made giddy loops in the air, and, for once, nobody told them to settle down and behave. Tonight was a night to celebrate!
